


EXCELSIOR

by theamazingbard



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Identities, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dimensional Magic, M/M, Magic, Music Teacher Jaskier | Dandelion, Paramedic Geralt, Spidey!Jask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25907878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theamazingbard/pseuds/theamazingbard
Summary: Life has been pretty weird since Aretuza Labs tore the fabric of reality apart and magic has returned to The Continent. Monsters have been coming in through dimensional rifts left all over the city. Jaskier became Cintra's one and only Spider-Man. Geralt may or may not be developing feelings for Ciri's high school music teacher. Yennefer is testing the limits of what magic can do. And someone has given Ciri a knife.But all the splendor and grandiose ideas of heroism and magic begin to fade when war brews beneath the surface.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 62
Kudos: 129





	1. Along Came a Spider

**Author's Note:**

> it's finally here! after talking nearly non-stop about spidey!jask and all the headcanons i have for this verse on my tumblr, i have finally started a proper fic. this is very exciting for me and I hope you all like it as much as i do. or at least like it a little bit. 
> 
> special thanks to aggpo and aikohitsugaya from tumblr for beta-reading!! <3 <3

"Right, so everyone into the closet! Right away, there we go. Brilliant!” Jaskier calls out over the deafening alarm. He ushers his students towards the walk-in closet he’s lucky to have in his classroom. It’s been warded, re-warded, and even has a wonderful set of bars with a lock. 

And though his students may perhaps be a tad unruly, he is not locking them up because they got a bit out of hand and started playing Despacito again. Gods, he wishes it were that simple. 

The truth is far more exciting. A crisis ripped through Cintra City two months ago, their dimension torn asunder. Throughout their humble city appeared rifts- portals to another world. The local population had taken to calling them tears. Since the crisis, monsters have periodically slipped through these rifts. Chaos and destruction following close behind. And, quite unfortunately, there’s a dimensional tear right next to the high school. 

Cintra High, lucky devils that they are, have one right in their football field. So, of course the first place all these new visitors would run towards is the building filled with teenagers and underpaid teachers. 

Turns out his job now requires him to ensure that his students don’t get eaten alive. Did he get a raise for all his new responsibilities? Hazard pay, perhaps? A medal? A fucking pat on the shoulder? 

No, of course not! 

But like, he’s not going to let them _die_ . Jaskier just needs to make sure they’re all safe first before he can slip away and handle a problem that few people in the immediate area seem to be willing to deal with. Or even deal with _well._

He counts his delightful students as they step into the make-shift panic room. “Five, six, seven...” 

Seven. Why are there only _seven_? 

“Dara? Where’s Ciri?” He asks, looking around his classroom. Maybe she’s hiding under the cello. Or the blackboard. Or she’s invisible. 

“She went to the bathroom!” He says as he shuffles towards the back of the classroom. 

“Marvelous. Just what I wanted to hear,” He mutters under his breath. Once the students are all inside the panic room, he hands the key to Dara. “Right, well. You’re in charge. No one provoke the demons, or monsters, or dragons. I’m looking at you, Brent! I mean it!” 

This really should feel less routine than it does. 

Once he’s (mostly) positive that no one is going to do anything stupid, he runs into the hallway. It’s less chaotic than it was the first few times monsters attacked, but there’s still the odd scream here and there, and a few teachers making sure all the students are where they need to be. 

The halls are rapidly clearing out. 

By now, he thinks, he should have seen Ciri. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Knows the drill. 

Jaskier also knows that Ciri has taken to carrying a knife to school and has something of a temper. He prays to whatever Gods may be listening that she hasn’t taken this opportunity to try and be a hero. 

The first time a monster appeared on school grounds, everyone was woefully underprepared. Everyone was screaming, unsure what to do. Though the monsters were small, bat-like creatures, there were no weapons to keep them at bay. No heroes to rely on yet. Jaskier did his best to take them down and managed to get almost all of them. But little Ciri, ever ferocious, clubbed one down with her flute. He was oddly proud, but he knew that he couldn’t let this behavior continue. 

There are others more qualified that can handle the monsters. More polished heroes. Ones that are, at this point, a professional. Stellar, despite what some local newspapers might be insinuating. Immaculately dressed and graceful he is as he pummels the worst of the worst- 

_Focus,_ Jask. C’mon. 

He runs towards the nearest girl’s bathroom. As he bursts through the door, he can already tell that it’s empty. “Ciri?” He tries anyway. Nothing. There’s no one in here. 

Jaskier’s feels the hair on the back of his neck raise. Then he hears a crash from down the hallway. “ _Shit_.” He double checks that no one is hiding in the bathroom before he rolls up his sleeves a little, exposing twin silvers bands- one on each wrist. 

“Here we go,” He says, unable to keep the smile from his face. “Suit up!” 

Energy pulses, originating from the silver bands. A sigil in the shape of a spider glows. A suit that’s become something of a second skin forms over his clothes with ease, the transformation taking all of a few seconds. 

When he looks at the mirror, he sees the face of Spider-Man staring back. He’s powerful and confident. He’s also got little time to spend admiring the sleek jewel toned green and blue of the suit so lovingly made for him. There’s a teenager to save. And probably the rest of the school. 

He nearly knocks the door off its hinges as he exits the bathroom. 

Any type of monster is too dangerous for a young girl to deal with on her own. Even Ciri. There are still so few answers as to where they come from, what they might want, and how to deal with them. 

Jaskier thinks that punching them until they stay down has been a mostly effective method, if a little crass. But he doesn’t want to attract any more attention to the school than there already is. 

The last thing he wants is _help._

The sound of snarls echo from the cafeteria. A scream follows. 

“No, no, not today! No dead girls in my school!” He cries. 

Inside the large cafeteria are five huge, very vicious looking dog-like creatures. Their fur is patchy and dark as night, and their bodies covered in thick welt-like scars. Their eyes glow, and drool drips from their large, pointed fangs. Yellowed claws stretch from their paws, the tips darkened with what he assumes to be blood. Now, they’re hungry for more. 

They lunge for him. Jaskier leaps upwards, his body twisting on instinct, and he lands on the roof. He sticks with ease. “Oh, good!” He says to no one in particular. “Just what I needed for my image. Beating up a pack of puppies. Perfect!” 

An approximation of a snarl rips from their throats, disjointed and horrible. The hounds circle below him like hungry sharks. Darkness swirls around them, like a shadow free from its shackles. 

A part of him, a part he still can’t quite explain, tells him that if he doesn’t take care of the pack now, there will be more. Thankfully, none of them seem to be able to disappear and reappear on the ceiling. He’s had to deal with a few monsters like that already, and gods, he really was hoping to get through a full lesson without incident. Supernatural or otherwise. 

He hears a crack. Beneath him... or above him? How does that work when he’s upside down? Jaskier is just able to crawl away from the offending spot when the loose part of the ceiling crashes down onto the floor. It doesn’t even fall on one of the dogs. 

Typical. 

The ceiling continues to crack and groan. There’s no way this should be happening. Jaskier has crawled about on this ceiling loads of times. It’s never had a problem holding his weight before. He knows that under normal circumstances, it can hold his weight no problem. Unless he’s put them under too much stress recently? The school is already so underfunded it wouldn’t be a surprise if the structure of it was garbage, as well. 

Great, so everything is going very much not according to plan. Nothing he can’t handle. He’s just going to have to punch his way out of this. 

Hopefully, with a little more finesse than he’s already shown. There are cameras around, and people do so love to point out every single thing he does wrong. At least he’s bringing the people together. And boy, they’ll all really love the fact that this entire commotion is making a mess. Especially the poor janitors. It should surprise no one that the janitors of Cintra City High School are not particularly big fans of Spider-Man. As if he isn’t saving their lives as well. 

He sighs and jumps back down to the floor, as far from the mutts as humanly possible. It’s not as far as he’d like, what with all the tables everywhere. Perhaps he could request that they be pushed out of the way in the future. Would make his job easier. 

Quick as he can, he extends an arm and aims for the beast on the far most left. A sigil on his bracelet glows a pale blue. Web shoots out from it and sticks to the beast. It recoils and snaps at the offending thread. Jaskier takes a step back, grabs hold of the web, and spins around. The mutt lifts from the ground, acting as a whip, knocking into tables, chairs, and the pack. 

Jaskier releases the web and the beast flies into the wall, leaving a sizable crack. Its body slides down the wall and then stills. There are two other dogs that had been knocked down thanks to this little stunt. But they aren’t knocked _out_ quite yet, already beginning to stir. 

A different sigil on his bracelet shines as he aims for them. A full-sized web shoots out of each bracelet, capturing and immobilizing the two mutts. Jaskier’s learned the hard way that sometimes a monster doesn't always stay down. Best to make sure they don’t have the option. 

The remaining two beasts circle him. “I promise, I'm not as delicious as I seem,” he reasons, holding his hands up. “Really! You can ask any of my exes!” Neither of the dogs back down. Their snarls grow louder. As one leaps at him, he hears a crashing sound in a distant part of the school. 

He manages to catch the dog, but the weight nearly knocks him to the ground. Jaskier has to hold the beast at a distance. Getting scratched by those disease-ridden claws is incredibly low on his priorities list. He knees the thing in the chest, only managing to make it angrier. The other mutt begins to race towards him. “Oh, no! Fuck that very much!” Jaskier brings his arms back and throws the damned dog at the other damned dog. That takes care of them. But he knows it’s not over yet. 

He really was hoping that this time would be easy. Or, well, easier. Sneaking away to fight off monsters from another dimension disrupts his lessons. Education just doesn’t get the love and attention it so deserves in this day and age. Though perhaps his students will learn a thing or two about monsters. Specialize in kicking ass. 

Could Spider-Man be a teacher as well? Double pay checks. Double the work. 

Hm. 

Maybe not. 

About ten more mutts from hell burst into the cafeteria. All snarling, all dangerous, all scarred. All very, very hungry looking. 

A few dogs run towards the kitchens, which thankfully have been sealed off. They aren’t as heavily guarded as the ones in the classroom, however, so he’s going to have to try and find a way to finish this before they break through. 

“Back the fuck off!” He hears from the kitchens. “I’m warning you!” His stomach sinks when he realizes just who that voice belongs to. 

_Ciri._

His day only gets worse when the dogs start coming for him all at once. Jaskier has to jump _constantly_ out of the way. Flipping here and there, all while trying to keep an eye on the door that the hounds are scratching at. At this point he feels more like a rabbit than a spider. 

At least rabbits are cute. 

As he continues to kick and punch and twist and turn, more and more dogs appear. Not only that, but he keeps fucking up. A punch timed wrong. Slipping on a banana peel that literally appears out of nowhere. His suit tears along his right shoulder. He’s going to be late on rent this month. Okay, that last one is probably on him, but everything else is definitely not his fault. Sure, he’s been unlucky before, but this is ridiculous! 

These aren’t just regular evil monster dogs that can tear him apart with their teeth, he realizes. They’re causing this somehow. 

When he discusses this with his designer/researcher/inspiration later on, she’ll be sure to find this little tid-bit fascinating. 

He’s knocked over by one of the beasts. The damn thing seemed a bit smaller when it wasn’t thrashing right above him. The snapping teeth are far too close to his face to ever be comfortable. Jaskier would also very much prefer not to have to scrub slobber off of his suit. He just had this thing cleaned. 

The dog has incredible strength. It’s an actual struggle to keep the thing from biting his face off. Though it’s less about how strong the damn thing is and more how it thrashes. It dislodges itself from Jaskier’s hold for a single moment and digs its teeth into his arm. 

Jaskier grits his teeth. While the dog continues to bite, he manages to gain leverage to kick the dog off of him once and for all. His arm bleeds sluggishly. 

Then, because every sundae needs a cherry on top, a portal appears. 

Out of the portal steps the Sorceress. She’s wearing a mask, something lacy that someone might wear to a masquerade. Despite this, outside of battle he could never really tell what she looks like. The enchantments on the damn thing are too strong. Aside from the mask, she wears black pants, thigh high boots, and an intricate velvet and leather top. He’s almost jealous of how good she looks. 

“Here to see your family, then?” He bites out. 

“Spider-Man. I didn’t know you went to high school. I’m impressed,” She holds up her hands, embers and steam appear before fire bursts forth from her fingertips. “I thought you’d be amongst your peers in middle school.” 

Oh, how he hates the Sorceress. She’s as much of a demon as the rest of these mutts. True, she’s powerful and beautiful. But she’s also _insane._ Absolutely not worth the trade off, if you were to ask him. 

She makes quick work of the dogs, burning them to a crisp. This finally gives Jaskier enough time to web up the remaining dogs by the kitchen’s solitary (and very un-warded) door. They struggle against the sticky cords but are unable to do anything. He’s really going to have to thank his partner again. 

Now that everything is just about wrapped up, he counts on his fingers just how many dogs he managed to beat. 

Jaskier looks around the room and counts the charred bodies of the demonic mutts. Then he looks towards the ones covered with webs. It was a close match, to be sure, but the final score is... 

Spider-Man: 7 

The Sorceress: 8 

Fuck, gods damn it. He really hopes that she’s not also arbitrarily keeping score on how many dogs they each killed. 

She totally cheated with that fire trick, though. 

“Have you decided to finally close the tear, or are you just going to leave it an open festering wound to match your soul?” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll rip your tongue out.” 

“You’d have to catch me first.” She doesn’t respond, which doesn’t at all annoy him, and strides towards the kitchen. “Whoa, hey, I don’t think so! No devouring children today. You didn't even have time to plump them up!” 

She rips the door open with surprising strength. 

From inside the cramped kitchen, he can hear the whimpering of the kitchen staff. In front stands Ciri. A small hunting knife in one hand, and a steak knife in the other. 

Oh, no! That means he’s going to have to talk to Ciri’s father about this. Horror beyond horrors. Whatever is he going to do. Jaskier wonders if it’s possible to bring him in for a meeting, rather than a phone call. Hm. How best to proceed? 

First things first. 

“Everyone alright?” Jaskier calls out, pushing his way past the Sorceress. Who, in turn, pushes past him. And she accuses him of being a child. Really, what ties does she have with these people? Not that she knows he personally has ties to them. But _still_. 

“Are you hurt?” She asks Ciri. That might be the weirdest thing today. 

“I’m _fine_. They didn’t even get close. Really,” She is shaking, though. As brave as she is, she’s still a young woman. It’s not fair that she thought she might have to kill demonic hounds to save the kitchen staff. Badass for sure, but he’d prefer it if she was a little more cowardly. It’d keep her safe. “Are there anymore out there?” 

“They’re all taken care of!” Jaskier says. “I’ll do a sweep of the perimeter, make sure that there aren’t any others leaking in through that nasty tear.” 

Ciri smiles at him. At least he has a few people on his side. Nearly all his students think Spider-Man is cool. Now if only he can convince them that their music teacher is _also_ very cool. 

“ _I_ will check on the tear.” The Sorceress glares at him. 

The moment stretches on. 

It truly is magical to find someone who resents you as much as you resent them, he thinks. Then he’s running towards the tear while the she-demon portals away. 

“That’s cheating!” He says, though he knows she can’t (or refuses to) hear him. 

In the end, there are no more dogs from the deepest pits of hell, and the Sorceress has done naught with the tear, save for putting what might be the equivalent of duct tape on the shimmering bit of energy. 

It twists and turns a few feet off the ground near the middle of the football field. He crosses his arms and shakes his head. 

One of these days he’s going to convince her to seal them for good. Until then, he’s going to have to be on his toes at all times. Spider-Man is not going to let any monsters get near his kids. Nor is he going to let the Sorceress continue as she has been. 

The sooner they close these tears, the better. 

If only webs worked on mystical energy. 

Jaskier finds a place close to the locker rooms to change back into Jaskier the music teacher. His kids will be wondering where he went to. He really has to come up with better stories. They’re starting to get suspicious. 

Surprising, really. He’s usually so good at keeping secrets. 

His arm throbs, and he realizes that he’s going to have to visit his partner later on. She’ll treat him better than any hospital. Plus, she’ll be wanting her own report on the events of today. With no other audience to hear his harrowing tale of dealing with terrifying, blood thirsty monsters (oh, and those dogs), he’ll have to make sure he tells it perfectly. 

It’s the least he can do. 

\- 

When his phone buzzes, Geralt can’t help but sigh. No one ever calls him to give him good news. It’s always bullshit. Either that, or it’s a robot call. Hard to tell which one annoys him more. 

Turns out, it’s a combination of both. 

An automated message from the school. 

It was attacked. 

Again. 

The message goes on to explain that no one had been hurt and that they will continue to look into the problem to try and prevent it from happening in the future. 

It might be time to consider changing Ciri’s school. Move out of Cintra. There would be some loose ends he needs to tie up. Specifically, Yennefer. She won’t want to move. Not when Aretuza has been working double overtime thanks to this whole dimensional crisis. She won’t tell him much about what’s going on. Personally, he doesn’t care. As long as it doesn't affect him. 

Day after day, he’s seeing all the shit that comes with magic in a modern-day society. People have wounds he’s never seen before. Poisons that no one knows how to deal with. The sheer panic. And all the damned uncertainty. 

His superiors are talking about integrating magic into their treatments. Have everyone learn a new set of skills. As if throwing more magic into the mix, something they don’t understand, will do anything other than cause more trouble. 

They should just close the damned tears and be done with it. 

For now, it’s contained to Cintra. But early reports are showing that these dimensional tears are starting to spread _outside_ , getting closer to the borders of other cities, and creeping ever towards Nilfgaard. 

If no one can stop the spread, there may not even be a point to moving. 

Geralt is going to have to talk to Yennefer regardless. She has her own opinions on how Cintra has been dealing with the crisis. But he knows that she wants what’s best for Ciri as well. They’ll deal with it. 

His phone buzzes again. 

Geralt is going to throw this damn thing out the window. Or downgrade to a flip phone. A quick glance shows that it’s a number not registered. 

_Hi! This is Jaskier, Ciri’s teacher. She’s not in trouble, but I thought you and I should talk about how she handled the monsters today. Would sometime this week work? Thanks!!!_

Hm. Maybe he was too quick to give her a knife. He only gave it to her to use in case of emergencies, and not without showing her how to use it first. Geralt can’t deny he feels pride, however, thinking about Ciri standing her ground against a monster. But all that bravery will be wasted if she dies trying to prove herself. 

He’s only met Jaskier once or twice, but he doubts that the man has any real ideas on how best to protect Ciri. How much could a music teacher know about self-defense? 

It would be better if they were on the same page. Ciri hardly listens to him, but she listens when Yennefer joins in. Perhaps adding a teacher Geralt knows she loves will help her realize that sometimes the best course of action is staying safe. 

_Friday at 4 the school?_

It doesn’t even take a minute before Jaskier texts back. 

_4:30 works better. I’ll see you then!_

Geralt glares at the phone. He wonders if Jaskier will actually be on time for this meeting. Last time, he had come in wind swept and out of breath. It wasn’t... a _bad_ look. However, it was clear that he had almost forgotten that there was a parent-teacher meet and greet. Something that the teacher had insisted upon in the first place. 

If he wasn’t so clearly invested in Ciri’s future, Geralt might have written him off as an idiot. But the way he talked about music, his daughter’s talents, and how best to move forward, all with an excited smile made Geralt give him the benefit of the doubt. 

\- 

Later, when it’s dark, Jaskier swings through the city. He doesn’t stop until he lands on an apartment building that he’s become quite familiar with. On the top floor, he sees that the light in his usual window is still on. He smiles. 

Slowly, he peeks his head upwards. No one is in the room. Then he slides it open. “Hellooo?” He calls out. “Your favorite superhero in the whole wide world is here!” Jaskier climbs in through the window, mindful of his arm. It’s taken him a few tries to get this down to a science, but he’s mastered not falling on his ass at this point. 

“My favorite superhero? I didn’t know the Sorceress was stopping by.” 

Jaskier rips his mask off and gasps. “Do you even love me, Triss?” In front of him stands the very witch herself, arms crossed and a winsome smile on her pretty face. “How could you say such a thing!” 

Triss grins wider and pats the bed. Another thing he’s become familiar with. This has to be the only bed he’s slept on this often without sleeping with its owner. “Come on, then. Let’s see what trouble you’ve gotten into today.” 

“I’ll find a new witch to care for me. One who doesn’t insult me every which way.” 

“Well, good luck with that! Not many witches are big fans of yours. Suit off.” She taps one of his bracelets 

Jaskier touches the sigil and the suit slips away, leaving him in his patterned buttoned up, a fine pair of slacks, and his chucks. Where do his clothes go when he’s suited up? He often wonders. Then he finds that it probably doesn’t matter. 

Gently, Triss takes hold of his arm and brings it into the light. He hisses under his breath when she brushes her fingers over the wound. The bite isn’t bleeding anymore. It scabbed over hours ago, already shrunk down to half its size. But it throbs like a right bastard, and he can’t be sure that it’s not infected. 

“What was it this time?” 

“Dogs. Hounds. Eyes that glowed yellow like the full moon. Fangs that dripped with rancid drool. An absolute horror. Darkness itself seemed to-” 

Triss huffs out a laugh and presses her hand more fully to the wound. His skin begins to itch as the wounds start to close. “As much as I love your stories, Jaskier. Tell me the facts first. Then embellish. Though... I think I may know what might have done this.” She frowns and checks on the bite. It’s almost entirely gone. The skin there is pale and new. She truly has come a long way since the crisis. 

Then again, something small like this is simple enough to fix in a single visit. Jaskier tries not to think about what might happen if he were truly injured. “Thank you.” He says, trying to convey how grateful he really is. Triss has been there for him since his transformation, and they were friends long before that. Hopefully all his ‘stories’ are just what she needs for her continued work at the Aretuza Lab. “You said that you think you know what they were?” 

“Hellhounds,” She replies, her voice dark. “They’ve been popping up recently. Attacking people. And then returning to attack them again. We’re not sure why they go after certain people, but we’re trying to figure that out. If they’ve shown up at your school, you’re going to need to be prepared to face them again.” 

“Brilliant.” 

Triss shrugs. “We’ll learn more soon enough. And I trust you to keep your kids safe.” 

Jaskier grins. “Well, of course you do! I’m great at my job. Especially when your friend the Sorceress stays out of the way...” 

“I told you, I don’t know who she is. She’s... powerful.” 

Jaskier crosses his arms. There’s no way she doesn’t know. There are only so many witches in the world who have that kind of power. All of them from Cintra. Most of them from Aretuza Labs, as it was the epicenter of the crisis. Triss must have some idea. But if she insists then he’ll leave it alone. For now. “Well, has your team come up with any solutions for the tears, yet?” 

“We’ve been getting better at keeping them closed longer. But nothing permanent,” She sighs. “I’m not sure everyone on the team even wants to close them forever.” 

“Don’t tell me they’re on the Sorceress’s side!” 

“I don’t know, Jaskier.” Triss says with a sigh. “I’ll let you know as soon as I can. But even if they do agree with the Sorceress, what are you going to do? Stop them?” 

Well. Jaskier hasn’t exactly thought that far ahead. But they can’t actually be thinking of keeping the tears open when people are dying. There’s only so much he can do as Spider-Man. Especially when they’re still training people how to fight monsters. And then there’s the fact that there are new monsters. All the time. The training they receive today might be superfluous tomorrow. 

“Well, I’ll do _something_.” As much as he’d like to continue to figure out Aretuza’s plans for a mess he’s pretty sure they started, he knows that he has to drop this, too. Instead, he moves on and tells the heroic tales of Spider-Man and how he saved an entire school from a pack of hellhounds. 

One day, he hopes to share stories like these with the rest of the world. 


	2. Hey, Quick Question: What the Fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @aggpo, my beta, is the real hero here. thwip thwip.

Jaskier was, in Geralt’s limited knowledge of the man, annoying. Talkative. Cheerful. Energetic in a way that he could only describe as off-putting. 

But he cares about his students. About Ciri. Always sending updates about concerts, about how she’s doing, and even occasionally pictures. These updates, unless about individual students, go out to all the parents. Geralt reads every one of them and even has a picture of Ciri laughing as his background on his phone. 

Geralt tries to remember this as he’s stuck waiting inside a cramped office. At this point, it should come as no surprise that the music teacher is late, but it still pisses him off. His own time is important. There’s too much shit he has to do to be waiting around like this. 

He looks around the cramped office. There are many, many instruments. Geralt recognizes a flute case only because Ciri plays the same instrument. There’s also a guitar in a stand, looking a little worse for wear. Perhaps something that a student would learn from? A small set of drums pushed as far back as they could go into a corner. Everything else is a bit of a guessing game. He’s pretty sure that there’s a trumpet in here 

It’s been far too long since he’s stepped into this building. This room. Another quick look at his phone tells him that Jaskier is now seven minutes late. Seven. Geralt breathes out sharply. 

Finally, Jaskier walks in. “Hey! Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, he continues to ramble. “Devin was having trouble with one of the pieces that she’s writing. It’s amazing. She’s going to be playing it at the winter concert in a few months. I belieeeeeve...” Jaskier suddenly starts rifling through a bunch of scattered papers on his desk. “Yes! Ciri has a solo. Of course, she does. She’s so talented!” 

Geralt blinks. Jaskier may have just saved himself again. Anyone capable of seeing Ciri’s greatness is at the very least tolerable. Though Geralt is always proud of Ciri, he has never been comfortable gushing about her the way that Jaskier is able to. At the very least, he can nod in agreement. 

“Then again, she does have a great teacher! And a supportive father.” He leans forward at his desk, a hand under his chin. 

“You said you wanted to discuss Ciri’s reactions to the monsters.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Jaskier sits up straight. “I do admire her. Tenacious. Brave. Has put herself in front of others before. However _!”_ He drums his fingers against the desk. Even between words, he’s making some sort of noise. “I do worry that she’s going to get herself hurt. She was found holding not one, but _two_ knives yesterday. Granted, she was in the bathroom when the alarm went off. But I wouldn’t put it past her to seek out the monsters herself.” 

“Hm.” It was a risk, he knew, giving Ciri something to defend herself with. The gleam in her eyes when he handed her the knife made him feel uneasy. However, he would rather she be armed and feel a bit uneasy than terrified for her safety. With this, she could fight. And he’s teaching her how to use it, too. Unfortunately, he understands where Jaskier is coming from. “What do you propose?” 

“Assure her that she’s in safe hands! The school has taken many precautions in the past few months to ensure the safety of the students-” Geralt doesn’t miss the way Jaskier’s expression tightens a little. “And that there are people here to look out for her. Not only the teachers, but a superhero as well!” 

Geralt has heard about the handful of people who have started dressing up in silly costumes. They fight the monsters enough to kill them, but the work itself looks shoddy at best and like they might be guessing how to do it at worst. Still, the fact that there’s a few that make regular appearances at the school does make him feel a little better. “The Sorceress, you mean.” 

Jaskier’s expression does something funny. It seems as though he’s trying to smile, only to look as if he’s in pain. “No, I meant _Spider-Man._ Y’know, of the friendly neighborhood sort? The webslinger? The mysterious, yet stylish man-of-action? Ringing a bell?” 

Geralt shrugs. He's heard the Sorceress’s name a few times on the job. She’s caused a lot of pain and misery among those who stand in her way. Beyond that, he hasn’t bothered to learn any other names. They all sound ridiculous anyway. 

For some reason, this makes Jaskier deflate. “Well, I’ll have you know that he protects the school single-handedly! Takes care of all the monsters. And with no villainous undercurrents unlike that of the Sorceress!” 

“I don’t care who protects the students,” Geralt crosses his arms. “As long as they’re safe.” 

“They are. Definitely. In good hands. Great, even. The _best_.” Jaskier says. “And I think if you talk to Ciri about it, assure her that she doesn’t have to worry about her or her friends getting hurt, she might be disinclined to taking matters into her own hands. At least until we hire her as the next great superhero.” 

Talking. He was really hoping that Jaskier had a better suggestion. But the man dressed in a deep red button down (that’s probably unbuttoned a little too much) would be one of those sensitive types, wouldn’t he? “I’ll talk to her.” Geralt promises. And he’ll make sure that she trains more. If she wants to act like a hero, she’s going to have to work like one. 

“Good! That’s what I wanted to hear.” Finally, a smile that’s more genuine. It’s. Nice. Geralt looks away. He has no business (and no desire) to notice such things. “Now, I also wanted to let you know that my friends and I have a little band and we’re playing at a coffeeshop this weekend. If you’re interested, that is. Some of my students are going to show up, so you know it’s family friendly. Mostly. They are teenagers. Have you heard some of the jokes that they make? They’re downright _scandalous_ , Geralt.” 

He’s handed a colorful looking flier. _The Garden Weeds_ at the Olly Olly Oxen Free. Looks like one of those expensive coffeeshops. Especially if they’ve got enough room for a band. “Probably won’t have the time.” It’s the truth. But he also doesn’t want to be stuck in a crowded, small space with a bunch of teenagers listening to music he’s never heard before. And if Geralt would rather forget how bright Jaskier’s smile is, no one has to know. 

“Maybe next time!” 

Fuck. 

\- 

Jaskier is so looking forward to playing with his band. It’s been ages since they’ve had a proper set. With Cintra being metaphorically on fire for nearly two months (and Jaskier valiantly trying to put out each and every one), there simply hasn’t been a lot of time. He’s grateful, then, that his friends are so forgiving. So understanding and patient and- 

“You’re late.” Essi opens the door looking entirely unimpressed. “How can you be late for a rehearsal that you rescheduled. You set the time!” 

“There was traffic!” There was, and he’s certain that Cintra’s reliably late buses were held up somewhere. However, Jaskier has taken to swinging through the city nowadays. Unfortunately, that means that he has to figure out the safest place to land, change out of his suit, and still be on time. 

That, and, there’s just so much damn paperwork to fill out before the second semester starts. He’s still trying to set up the winter concert and is getting _nothing_ from the school board. Sure, he can plan an entire concert on his own no problem. He’s just got to. Fit it into his schedule somehow. 

He’s Spider-Man, it’s nothing he can’t handle! 

Essi purses her lips and shakes her head. “That excuse can only work so many times. You know how the traffic is in this city. Plan around it. Or learn to drive!” 

“I can drive!” 

“I’ve seen you drive. You do not know how to drive.” But then she’s smiling and pulling him into a hug. Even though she can be spectacularly mean to him, he hugs her back. Carefully, so as not to crush her. Post bite, it’s been hard to gauge what a good bear hug is. “It’s been too long, Jask.” 

“Same to you, Little Eye.” 

She rolls her eyes at the nickname but lets go and finally allows him inside her apartment. It’s a bit bigger than his, tidier, and with newer furniture. Already, she has their usual setup around the couch. And cookies. They look homemade. 

It really has been too long. 

“I notice that we’re still missing one!” Jaskier points out. “Does she get yelled at too, or am I the only one to receive all the abuse?” 

Essi is already heading into the kitchen. “Well, you always wanted to be special! Here’s your chance.” 

“Hate you too!” Jaskier almost helps himself to some cookies but decides to wait until they finish rehearsing. However long that’ll take. Fuck, he should have had lunch. Or a more substantial breakfast. “Get me some water!” 

“Manners! And as for our more responsible bandmate- she’s texted me already. Said something about taking the long way.” Essi comes back into the room with a glass of water in hand. Jaskier takes it and drinks nearly half of it in one go. Perhaps he should consider keeping a bag with him again. It’d make Spider-Man look a bit less sleek, but it might be beneficial if he had some essentials with him. Style or substance? Hm. 

“Long way? Everything okay?” 

Essi shrugs. “She’s been weird about it. Real sketchy. Well. Sketchier than normal.” 

Jaskier snorts. “Still. I’m the only one to get in trouble.” 

“Please get over yourself.” 

“Never.” They plop down on the couch. “You haven’t had any troubles, have you? I didn’t see any tears ‘round here, but they can be hard to see when swinging, uh, swinging by. When I come to see you. On the bus.” 

Essi shakes her head. "You're so weird. But no, we’ve been lucky so far. No tears. But I think one just opened up a few blocks away.” She sighs. “I hate magic. Hasn’t done any good. Can’t wait till this nonsense is over. You’ve been alright, though? Saw there was one next to your school.” 

Jaskier nods. “Yup! If you thought the most dangerous thing at my school were teenagers... well, you’d be correct, but the monsters are a close second!” 

They chat for a bit longer, catching up. It’s the first bit of normalcy Jaskier feels since the crisis. Oddly, he’s missed this. He really must try and fit in more rehearsal time into his schedule. It really makes having a secret identity a lot more fun. At every moment, the secret he carries feels that more important. This is what being a hero is. Protecting people like Essi. Keeping Cintra City a safer place so that they don’t have to worry about the weekly boogie man. 

Their conversation ends with an abrupt rapt on the door. 

“Finally!” Jaskier cheers. He’s been itching to actually play music for... has it been weeks? Goodness. Where does the time go? 

Essi goes to answer the door. When she opens it, their mutual friend and bandmate barges in and slams the door shut. “Anyone else having a shit week?” 

“Hullo, Renfri,” Jaskier says with a smile. “I have so missed your sunny personality.” 

“I haven’t missed yours.” But she returns the smile. It’s a tired looking expression. He’s never seen her so rattled before. “Essi. Still kicking ass, I hope?” 

“Always.” Essi rejoins Jaskier on the couch and grabs a cookie. “What‘s going on? Why was it a shit week?” 

Renfri reaches into her bag and pulls out some drumsticks. When she sits across from them on one of those cushy looking armchairs, she swings her feet over the armrest. “Everywhere I go, there are these fucking dogs,” she complains. “Barking and chasing after me.” 

Essi snorts. “Dogs? You sure you’re not carrying some food on you?” She reaches for her own instrument, a lovely acoustic bass guitar. 

“Not those kinds of dogs.” Renfri’s tone goes dark. Far away. She then cracks her knuckles. Even with all the power he holds now, Jaskier is a little afraid of Renfri. And now it appears he has to be scared for her. 

“Dogs... like from the rifts?” He asks carefully. 

Renfri nods in agreement. She turns her eyes to the cookies and snatches one for herself. “It’s been days. They won’t leave me alone.” 

“I still vote that it’s food.” Essi chimes in. “We’re already running behind schedule. And we have a gig in about a week. Do we actually want to get in some practice today, or...?” 

Jaskier would absolutely love to play. He’s had ideas bouncing around inside his head for ages. Turns out, fighting monsters has done wonders for song writing. Whenever he’s got a moment after fighting some yet unnamed beast, he sits atop a building and scribbles done as much information as possible. This also works for Triss, who has been writing the best resource on monsters since this nonsense began. 

With all these ideas, he wants to play. Very badly. His fingers run along the silver band on his left wrist. 

“Sorry, but-” Jaskier winces. Apparently, you can’t turn the hero thing off. That’s annoying. But so very noble of him. “How have you been avoiding them? Or, escaping, rather?” 

Renfri smiles and pulls out what looks to be a machete. 

Essi gapes. “ _Renfri_ _!_ You cannot kill a dog. Call animal control, or something!” 

“They’re not real dogs. They’re monsters. And I’m not going to let one of them kill me. Besides, I’m usually able hop a fence, or climb up a fire escape or something.” She puts the machete away, unbothered at the thought of killing. “If it bothers you so much, you can call animal control. See how well that works out.” 

“You could stay with me, if you like,” Jaskier finds himself saying. “Until the dog problem is taken care of.” 

Renfri raises a skeptical brow. Which, rude. “I love you, Jaskier. But I can’t imagine you in a fight. And I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” She raises and flexes her arms, showing off just how capable she is. “Maybe if you worked out beyond vanity reasons, I’d take you up on your offer.” 

Jaskier frowns and crosses his arms. Obviously, he’s quite good at protecting people. But he can’t exactly pull out his resume and point out his very relevant experience in being a savior. Nor can he engage in a test of strengths Renfri is so fond of. 

She beat him every single time before. While beating her would be an absolute pleasure, he’s sure that she would find a way to kill him to win back the honor of being the strongest of their little trio. 

Looks like he’ll have to protect his friend from afar. Without thanks. And, he thinks, very few photo ops if he’s going to do this undercover. The things he does for love. 

“Alright, are we quite finished? I’d like to focus on what we’re actually meant to be doing. Playing music? Getting ready? Possibly writing something new?” Essi says with a sigh. 

Renfri grabs her drumsticks and goes to sit by the drum set. 

For once, Jaskier wished they could go back to the violent conversation. Though, at this point, he knows that he won’t be able to glean any more information. The best thing he can do right now is rehearse. 

Tonight, however, he’ll get to work. 

Finally, they play. 

It’s like a part of his soul has come back to him. A part he hadn’t realized flown off, far away and out of reach. Jaskier will need to make more time for music as well. 

When _did_ his schedule get so full? 

\- 

It’s late when they finally finish playing. Even after so long out of practice, they sound good together. But all it takes is for Renfri to check her watch to know that this rehearsal has come to an end. 

“I’d like to get home before the monsters. Or at least that sweet spot between it being dark enough so that the lights are still on, but fewer people to call the cops on me when I stab a demonic dog.” She says with a pointed look at Essi. 

Essi only rolls her eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when you get arrested.” 

With that, Renfri leaves. Jaskier nearly follows her, but knows that she will not appreciate his company, and won’t appreciate the fact that he is in fact strong enough to protect her. 

So, nothing all that different from before the crisis. 

However, he doesn’t want to stay too much longer. With the rest of his week practically jam packed and little time for sleep, he’d like to see for himself if Renfri really is having a problem tonight. It means sacrificing time with Essi, and that makes his heart ache, but there’s nothing to be done about it. 

For the next 5 minutes, Jaskier and Essi chat about the music, a topic that they can usually get through without too much bickering. It’s nice. He even tells her his idea about writing about the monsters and the crisis. Though she doesn’t seem excited by the prospect, she promises to help him flesh everything out. 

The itch to do something, to make sure Renfri is safe becomes too much, however, and Jaskier makes an admittedly lame excuse about leaving. 

“You’re leaving now? Usually, you stay for a bit after,” Essi complains. “We drink, make fun of Renfri because she can’t hear us. Write the sappier stuff.” 

Jaskier shrugs. “Can’t be helped. Got. Teacher-y things to do. Grading papers.” 

“Aren’t you a music teacher? What kind of papers could you possibly be assigning?” 

“I don’t tell you how to do your job, now do I?” 

Essi sighs. “I was serious before, Jask,” She says. “I feel like I haven’t really spoken to you in ages. Is everything okay?” 

Shit, Essi sounds serious. Jaskier takes a step backwards, towards the door. He can’t let Renfri get too far, especially if there are evil demon doggies chasing after her. “Everything is fine! Promise. I really do have things that need doing. And I’ll text you when I get home. And also text you more often in general.” 

It does not bode well for him that she doesn’t look appeased. “Next rehearsal is in two days. Don’t be late.” 

“I’m never late!” Jaskier says as he takes his leave. 

Thankfully, Jaskier has escaped via rooftop from this very building on many occasions. He runs up the stairs, hoping that Renfri hasn’t gotten too far. Or worse, that she’s already being tracked down by demons from another dimension. The dogs were easy enough to handle, even with the bad luck. But that was with powers. Renfri may be a martial artist and willing to use a machete to defend herself, but she’s still _human._

Jaskier bursts through the door and stands on the roof. He tucks his guitar and his messenger bag in the shadowed corner. Hopefully no one comes up here and steals his things. 

Quickly, Jaskier changes into the suit and jumps right off the building. 

There’s nothing quite like the thrill of falling. Of knowing that it’s proceeded by _rising._ He extends an arm, presses his middle and ring finger down against his palm, and without looking knows that web bursts forth from his trusty silver band. 

The web sticks, tightens, and gravity does the rest. 

Jaskier swings through Cintra. Even after a few weeks of swinging, he’s yet to memorize the entire map of the City. But this area he knows well. Knows that Renfri will be a few blocks ahead. 

He swings himself high into the air, and spots Renfri. She’s walking quickly, and constantly looking over her shoulder. 

Probably won’t be great to see that she’s got someone tailing her. Even if it is the incredible Spider-Man. (Amazing Spider-Man? Will have to workshop a better title.) 

Swinging can be pretty quiet but getting to a rooftop to avoid being seen can be difficult. Hasn’t quite nailed stealth yet. Better to stick to running and jumping across rooftops like a maniac. Jaskier swings one last time before landing on a building to Renfri’s right. Should she need help, all he’d need to do is jump down. 

Thus far, there hasn’t been any rift activity. 

Jaskier frequently has to duck out of her line of sight- she's started to look up, too. Either she’s incredibly aware of her surroundings, or she’s paranoid. It’d be a whole lot easier to protect her and watch for monsters if he wasn’t so busy ducking out of the way! 

At the very least, he’ll probably have warning if something comes creeping up. 

Jaskier hasn’t always been able to tell when one opens, but if he’s close enough he’ll feel it. He hasn’t yet named the sixth sense he seemingly has, the one that warns of danger. Doesn’t know how to describe it rather than a sort of shiver. 

He figures it’ll come to him eventually. When he overhears the word. Or he’ll just wake up at three in the morning and know. 

His thoughts are interrupted when Renfri turns a corner. 

Right. Have to keep an eye on her. 

It should be relieving that he hasn’t seen anything yet, but Jaskier knows by now that as soon as he feels comfortable the world goes to shit. On this street, the last before her apartment, there isn’t anyone walking about. All alone. Jaskier leaps from one building to the next, trying to stay close. 

Renfri stops. Turns. She pulls out the machete. Jaskier has to admit that he’s impressed. It’s one thing to work out, to go to a local dojo, to carry weapons. Being mentally prepared for a fight is an entirely different animal. 

Another thing he’s learned the hard way. 

A long moment passes. Not a sound. Renfri turns slowly in place, her weapon always at the ready. She looks up again, but Jaskier is able to duck out of the way before she can take note of his presence. When nothing appears, Renfri breathes out. She doesn’t put her machete away, but she does lower it. 

Slowly, she turns her back and continues onward. 

It’s then that he feels it. The sort of shift in the air that raises the hair on the back of his neck. Because of course that’s when a rift would open. There’s an inexplicable pull, like a magnet, that draws him to it. Whether it’s his sixth sense or the fact that he’s been so personally affected by the tear, he hasn’t yet been able to figure out. 

There, tucked away in an alley (why is always in an alley? Are they inherently cursed?) is a tear. Jaskier groans. No wonder Renfri has been having so many problems. 

As the demon dogs start to filter through the bit of wobbly green light in the air, he figures that’s a question better left for later. 

Why couldn’t Renfri have been chased by regular dogs? Ones that didn’t cause bad luck or try to kill people? 

Jaskier jumps down from the building, landing exactly as a superhero should- on one knee, one hand on the ground to brace his fall, and another arm poised just behind his back, ready for action. Maybe there’s a street camera that’s taking a video. One can only hope. 

He looks up and narrows his eyes. Three of them. Not so bad. They’re already running towards him. Jaskier stands and drops into a stance that’s become familiar. Natural. 

And then they run right past him. 

For a moment there, he just looks behind him, at the dogs running for Renfri. 

Since when do monsters ignore a threat altogether? 

Oh shit, wait, Renfri. 

Jaskier sprints. The dogs are really fucking fast when they want to be. Thankfully, it looks like Renfri’s long hours at the dojo are paying off. She’s got a good distance between herself and the three dogs, but they’re rapidly gaining on her. 

Taking them down will take longer than simply stopping them, Jaskier thinks. He looks up at the flickering streetlamps. 

There’s an idea. 

He leaps into the air, and begins swinging, gaining momentum. As he gets close to the hound trailing behind the others, he aims a web between its shoulder blades. When it lands, he hauls the monster into the air. He swings unto the streetlamp and ties it up, leaving it to dangle before thwipping forward. 

Ahead, he sees Renfri dropping her bag and making a sharp turn between two buildings. He really hopes she knows what she’s doing and does whatever that is quickly. 

Just before the hounds get a chance to round the corner, Jaskier manages to get a hold of another, holding the web tightly and throwing it against the nearest wall. He lets go of the web he was swinging with, aims at the dog as it hits the wall with both web shooters, and throws a web large enough so that it covers the entire body. It struggles futilely against the cords. 

Jaskier lands between the buildings, sees that Renfri has hopped a fence. The monster snarls, the drool flying everywhere. While the hound does not tear its gaze away from Renfri, she looks up to meet Jaskier’s. Her eyes widen. Then, she smiles. “You better take care of that, Spider-Boy.” Before she turns heel and continues down the street. 

“It’s Spider- _Man!”_ He corrects loudly. With Renfri gone, the monstrous dog finally seems to realize that Jaskier is there. It wastes no more time trying to get to him and runs straight towards him. The jaws open wide, ready to snap around any part Jaskier it can reach. He jumps into the air and flips over the dog, landing on a trash can that suddenly tips over. Jaskier tumbles off the trash can and hits his head hard on the pavement. 

“Ow, oh _ow_ ,” He presses a hand to his head. His mask tore, and a bit of blood sticks to his fingers. Great. He grits, rolls onto his back, then pushes himself off the ground and lands on his feet. “Fucking! Mutt!” He points at the offending bastardization of a dog. 

From now on, he decides, he’s a cat person through and through. 

The hound turns, furious and snaps at the air. Jaskier webs up the nearby trash can and throws it as hard as he can at the monster. When it crashes into its body, Jaskier races forward, jumps high into the air and webs the hound up so much there’s hardly any black fur showing through the bindings. He lands and sighs. 

That takes care of that. 

For now, at least. 

To put an end to it truly, he’s going to have to figure out _why_ these dogs are gunning for Renfri. 

A shiver runs down his spine. Someone is watching him. 

Jaskier frowns and looks up. There’s no one standing above that he can see. He thwips two webs at the building across the street, takes a few steps back, and launches himself at the roof. 

He turns in place, looking for any sign of- well, anything. 

No one. 

Nothing. 

But there was someone here, he’s sure of it. 

Another shiver. 

Jaskier looks down at the street at the cocoon he just made. 

“What the _fuck.”_

It’s an easy jump down to the street, even with his head beginning to throb. He walks slowly, looking around, waiting for the mysterious something or other to appear. When nothing does, he peers closely at what should have been the final resting place for the monster. 

The cocoon has deflated. There’s nothing inside. It usually takes a lot longer for the body to disintegrate. At least a few minutes. Usually, lights shine bright and zip towards the nearest tear. 

Speaking of tears... Jaskier runs towards the alleyway where the dogs originated from. 

Where there was once a tear is now just a regular bit of empty air. 

Jaskier is tempted to rip his mask off to get a closer look. 

He shakes his head. 

Hours ago, being Spider-Man just meant punching things really hard until they went away. Sometimes rescuing a cat. Now, it looks like he’s going to have to figure this fuckery out. Otherwise, he imagines more fuckery will happen. 

He has a bad feeling that there are witches behind this. 

One comes to mind. 

Jaskier knows there’s nothing more that he can do about the situation at the moment. Can hardly define what the situation is. He still has to retrieve his bags from Essi’s roof and get some sleep tonight, if possible. 

What with how late it is, he’ll be skipping the trip to Triss’s flat. The head wound is little more than a scrape. Should only take a day or two before it’s gone entirely. 

Suddenly exhausted, Jaskier shoots off another web and begins to swing home. 

\- 

Atop the roof, a figure cloaked in the shadows watches as Spider-Man leaves the scene of the crime. 

The Sorceress narrows her eyes. 

Looks like there is more work to be done before she sleeps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @anxiousbard for MORE spidey!jask (plus witcher!jask drabbles i've been working on plus plus other things you can reblog and love and comment and other... ways to support me. wink wonk)   
> i love you all.   
> i can't believe the love and attention spidey!jask is gettin'. may this web head figure some shit out <3


	3. I Thought I Was Going to a Concert But Instead I Got a Ticket to the Gun Show by Fall Out Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gbless @aggpo for editing even tho they prefer the dc universe

Everyday just seems to have more and more bullshit, Yennefer thinks. More shit for her to deal with. Frankly, she’s tired. There are things that she’d much rather be doing. Studying magic. Getting more powerful. Firing incompetent interns. 

Keeping government officials quiet while she works on her studies. 

The reconstruction of the conjunction of spheres hadn’t been all that bad. Yes, it did tear part of their universe apart, but on the other hand, they now have all this power and knowledge to access. A better world, just around the corner. 

Hers for the taking. 

That is, unless some idiot fucks it all up. 

When she first became the Sorceress, it was to protect the tears. She needs them intact, as does the rest of Aretuza Labs. If the world is to keep magic, they have to understand what these things do. How they work. While it’s unfortunate that monsters come through, it’s nothing that she can’t handle. With time and hard work, the rest of the mages are soon to keep up with her. 

Then Spider-Man shows up. A fool, unable to understand the reality of the situation. Always asking, _begging_ her to close the tears. 

It’s not an option. The more tears they close, the less likely it is that they’ll be keeping magic. Power is not inherently evil. She could do so much with it. Finally get everything that’s owed to her. 

No one is going to stop her, not even the likes of Spider-Man. 

Unfortunately, he seems to be the least of her worries. Someone, and she has some theories as to whom, is pursuing their own ambitions here at the lab. 

While it’s true that many of the mages/scientists have been left to their own devices to study different parts of the tears, or the magic that has been returned to their world, Yennefer is sure that each and every one of these power hungry morons are searching for a way to become the most renowned. _Academics_. 

Whoever it is Yennefer is going to end their entire career. With pressures put on all Aretuza for doing this to the city in the first place, they need to be careful not to let their curiosities get the better of them. At least Fringilla quit. 

It’s why, specifically, Yennefer enchanted a mask. No one knows who she is. No one _can_ know who she is. Thanks to Istredd pulling out books on magic from another dimension, she was able to craft and fine tune a spell so that whenever she wears it, no one can puzzle out who she is. 

Even if it is hardly more than a strip of lace. 

The magic wears off when she tells someone who she is, however. Though that honor has only been given to two people she has deemed trustworthy. Those that she’s sure won’t try and use it against her and those she’s sure aren’t sending fucking dogs after innocent girls. 

Yennefer looks over the reports on the monster attacks she’s been receiving. 

Someone has figured out how to make the damn beasts do their bidding. And now that they’ve done that, they’re hunting down different girls. Why? What’s the purpose? 

And again, fucking Spider-Man gets tangled up in all this shit. Fighting to protect that one girl. 

At the very least, he’s led her to one of the victims. She’ll be dead soon enough, Yennefer thinks. Renfri will be the fourth girl who has died because of these demons. But without a connection to the previous deaths of innocent girls, Yennefer will be unable to prevent more. What’s tying them together? 

She picks up a pen and clicks it a few times in concentration. 

The last thing she wants to do is to bring this to Tissaia. Likely, the director of her department already knows what’s going on, at least in passing. Her ass is on the line along with the rest of them. Deaths, beyond that from the tears, will be their ruin. 

Yennefer will have to start over. Which, yes, she’s willing to do if that’s what it comes to. However, all her work will be lost. All these spells that she’s found, refined, recreated. All the respect that she’s won here. 

For what? A second-rate hack? 

No. 

No, Yennefer is going to put an end to this and make sure things go back to the way that it’s supposed to be. And that starts, she thinks, with finding out what makes Renfri so special. 

\- 

“You’re jittery,” Renfri points out. “How many cups of coffee have you had?” 

Jaskier looks down at his half empty mug. His hands are shaking just a bit. “Uh... More than one?” He smiles wide. It’s not received well. 

“The last thing we need is for you to get nervous before a show.” Essi points out. “It’s been a while, I know, but still.” 

“Wow!” Jaskier gasps. “I am absolutely not nervous. I belong on the stage. Live on it. Thrive. I just-” He yawns widely. “Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, is all.” Every night, watching after Renfri has become something of a chore. He’s had to web up, what, 8 dogs in the past 2 days? When Jaskier first became Spider-Man, he imagined more... well, heroics. Less stalking and beating the pulp out of puppy shaped demons. 

No matter! Coffee has helped him through the double all-nighters he pulled a few years ago. The trusty beverage will see him through this little predicament until it’s over. Then he can get back to rescuing people from silly little monsters. 

Maybe he can even take selfies with some of his adoring public. Well, _some_ of the public is adoring. He imagines that when he solves the mystery of the demonic hounds chasing after poor, defenseless Renfri (an opinion that shall stay locked up inside his mind forever, thank you), Cintra will finally appreciate what they have. 

Essi frowns and takes a closer look at him. “You haven’t been sleeping well for the past few days, either.” 

Jaskier frowns. “It’s that time of year! Midterms are steadily approaching, there’s still the winter concert to plan, erm... taxes?” 

At least this time he gets a laugh out of his bandmates. “If you haven’t filed taxes yet, you won’t be getting good rest for a long while yet.” Renfri replies. 

“Yeesh,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out. Something else he’ll have to worry about. Or- or. He could just talk to Triss about it. She does seem to have friends in high places, especially since the whole crisis. Yes, that’ll sort things out nicely. Taxes. Taken care of. Who can truly say that he’s bad at being an adult? “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

He takes another long pull from his mug. Maybe he’ll have time to order another latte before their little show begins. 

Already, people are filtering in, watching with interest as Renfri and Essi set up. Jaskier has been banned after tripping over everything and making a general mess. He’s not going to complain. Setting up is not at all fun, and even when he’s not tired or high on caffeine he tends to get in the way. 

Not that he does that on _purpose_ or something. 

Although it may be karma that nearly makes him spill coffee all over himself as Geralt and Ciri walk in. 

He can’t believe that Geralt actually came to see him play. 

But Ciri is here with him, so there is to be no drooling over her father. At least, no obvious drooling. He’s going to have to stealth flirt. As a teacher, this is something he’s been preparing for his entire career and should be able to accomplish with little issues. 

“Oh no,” He hears Essi sigh. “Tell me you didn’t invite this week's love of your life.” 

“By the looks of it, he did.” Renfri replies. 

“Ex _cuse_ me. I’m right here!” Jaskier resents the fact that they tease him so often. “This week’s love of my life. Really. You don't know whether or not he’s the love of my life! And neither do I. The only way I’m to find out is if I _talk_ to him. Are you really willing to rob me that opportunity?” He sniffs. “Not that I’d let you do something so heinously cruel.” As if Jaskier is going to let a golden opportunity that hot walk away before he gets a proper chance. “In fact...” 

“Jaskier, no. Tune your guitar! We play in like twenty minutes!” 

“Plenty of time, dearest Renfri. Plenty of time.” He walks over to Geralt with his head held high. Hopefully his smile isn’t as predatory as it feels. “Well, I must say this is a pleasant surprise!” 

“Hi Jaskier,” Ciri says, briefly looking up from her phone. “I looked up some of your music before. It’s pretty good.” 

“A glowing review!” Appealing to today’s youth is practically impossible, so it always feels like a win when his disinterested students shows some semblance of... well, interest. “Did your father happen to hear a few of our songs as well?” He looks up at Geralt and smiles. 

“No.” There’s no luck in getting a smile in return. Ah, well. Jaskier still believes that he has a chance. 

“Well, prepare to be converted into a fan. My companions and I have only written the very best material and saved the best of _that_ for today.” Jaskier holds out his arms, coffee nearly sloshing out of his mug. Again. “After all, we’re celebrating a return to normal!” 

“What happened to your head?” Geralt cuts off the grand speech Jaskier was ramping up to. 

He touches his forehead and feels the scab. It’s nearly gone, but a bit of a bruise remains. If only his healing factor worked just a little bit faster. Jaskier hates that he’s noticed the unsightly green and yellow just under his fringe. “Oh this?” He laughs it off. “Tripped. Down the stairs. My shoelaces were untied.” 

Geralt narrows his eyes. 

Oh shit, did that not sound believable? 

“Not _these_ shoelaces. These shoes don’t even have laces. But really, could have happened to anyone!” He laughs nervously. Now even Ciri is looking at him funny. 

“You have a tattoo?” Ciri points to his arm, where his sleeve has ridden up. 

Jaskier, since becoming Spider-Man, has taken to trying to keep it hidden. A small lute with little flowers coming out of it. Like an ancient instrument, still living. He’d gotten it years ago, unaware that one day he would be donning a mask. Triss has warned him about keeping identifying marks (and freckles, apparently) out of the public eye as much as possible. A shame, since he finds his body (and freckles!) pretty. But he’s grateful for the change in topic, nevertheless. “Yes! Got it when I was about your age.” 

Another scowl from Geralt. 

Oh, right. 

“Which was a very bad and naughty thing to do. You should wait until you’re old enough and won’t regret any tattoos you might get while you’re still too young.” 

Ciri giggles. 

“Right then. No Dara today, Ciri?” Jaskier asks. At least he can show Geralt that he’s not entirely a fool when it comes to his child. 

“Yeah, he’s getting a hot chocolate.” She points him out, standing in line. “After this we’re going to be doing a bit of homework.” 

If Geralt were not around, Jaskier would have pointed out that homework sucks and that he feels for her. Instead he says,” Right, well as soon as you finish that, the sooner you can plan out your first tattoo.” 

Geralt groans. 

“Okay, Jaskier,” Ciri shakes her head. “I’ll see you later, alright? Good luck!” She bounces off to go meet Dara. Which means some much needed alone time with her father. 

Score. 

“She’s great,” Nothing butters a parent up more than talking about how great their kid is. But in this case, Jaskier means every word. “I’m sure she won’t get a tattoo until she’s at least 18.” 

“Ciri already has ideas.” Geralt crosses his arms. Big arms. Wow, to be wrapped up in those. “I don’t think you helped the situation.” 

Jaskier laughs it off. “Just a bit of teenage rebellion, I’m sure. And if it isn’t, and she still wants the tattoo in a few years, well. Then she won’t regret it, will she?” 

“Hm.” 

“Anyway! We have a great show today. Even if you haven’t heard the music yet, I’ve yet to meet a person who I’ve been unable to convert. Prepare yourself.” Jaskier places his hands on his hips. There’s no fear of fucking up, as Jaskier is a master in all his chosen crafts. Music, crime fighting, and yes, flirting. 

And, as fate would have it, he’s earned himself a small smile. 

Jaskier feels his heart melt. Goodness, the things he’d do to see that smile again. “Hope you’ll stay after the show. Could talk non-teacher-y things. Maybe get a cup of coffee.” He lifts his own. It’s nearly finished. Jaskier really shouldn’t buy another cup, but he’s tired. And who needs fiscal responsibility when talking to a hot guy? 

Geralt shrugs. “Will have to see how the music sounds first.” 

“Then I shall definitely see you after!” Jaskier promises. He races up to join the others on stage, finally ready to tune up. Nothing sexier than a man with a guitar, after all. 

Except a man with hair like moonlight and eyes like stars. 

Now that’s definitely something he has to write down. 

\- 

Music isn’t really his thing. Geralt usually tunes it out and focuses on whatever needs to be done. However, Ciri suggested that she might want to come to this thing and Jaskier- Well, Geralt isn’t entirely opposed to spending more time with the man. 

There’s an attraction there, he realizes. And the cure to it is probably getting to know him. All this pep and constant talking will eventually help him move on from this nonsense. 

Dating as a paramedic and a part-time father hasn’t exactly been fruitful, but Geralt also isn’t looking. He looks towards the stage and frowns. Jaskier is laughing loudly at something one of his bandmate’s said. 

No. Geralt isn’t looking at all. 

(Fuck.) 

The café begins to settle and people start taking their seats at the mismatched tables. Geralt would have preferred somewhere towards the back, closer to the door but Ciri insisted on pulling him towards the front. They wind up somewhere closer in the middle. A large, heavy round table with mug stains on it. 

Ciri traces them with her finger as she chats with Dara about some school drama. Geralt does not listen closely to what they are saying, but it’s nice to see her so happy. 

“Nice to see everyone again!” Jaskier introduces his band. He’s all smiles and easy confidence. Geralt suddenly wonders why it is he’s a teacher at all when it’s clear he’s born to do this. Though he has no clue how easy it is to be a full-time musician. If he still remembers later, he can ask. “And nice that things are kind of back to normal. Or, new normal I should say. Did anyone notice-” 

“Oh, for the love of-” The brunette in the back interjects. “One, two, three-” And the music begins. If Geralt had to guess, it sounds like pop music. However, Ciri accuses him of calling everything that doesn’t sound like old rock and roll pop. Whatever Jaskier and his band are playing isn’t his favorite type of music, but he doesn’t hate it either. He has to stop himself from nodding in time with the beat. 

“You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you know.” Ciri whispers behind her hand. “You won’t spontaneously combust because you aren’t busy. Or frowning.” 

Geralt holds up a finger to his lips. “You’re the one who wanted to come,” He whispers back. The group of people sitting in front of them look over their shoulders, glaring. Geralt glowers in response. “So be quiet.” 

“Sure,” Ciri says turning towards the stage once more. “Not like you didn’t agree rather quickly.” 

“Gross.” Dara whispers under his breath. 

Sometimes Geralt wonders if it’s too late for Yennefer to have full custody of Ciri. If she keeps it up with this attitude, he’ll have to look into it. 

A few more songs play, Jaskier dancing and winking all the way. 

Geralt is pretty sure he’s the recipient of one or two of said winks. And really, what the fuck is he supposed to do with that? Is there a way to respond to a wink? He probably takes too long deciding, as Jaskier’s face falls. 

But the musician stops playing, setting his guitar down and jumping into a surprised crowd. 

Behind him, Geralt can hear the sound of barking. A moment later, and the glass window breaks. Geralt reaches for Ciri and Dara blindly and pulls them towards the floor. Just then, Jaskier is beside him, flipping the table upward and shielding them all from debris. 

Where the fuck had _that_ come from? 

Geralt, still holding the teens, looks over at Jaskier who has lost all of that playfulness he had on stage. “What the fuck, what the fuck,” He keeps muttering under his breath. 

So far, it only sounds like one or two have entered the building, but he’d rather not make a bet on something he knows nothing about. Ciri is beginning to struggle against him, and while Dara breaks free, he doesn’t stray far. Geralt knows that Ciri wants to fight, but he’s not about to let her do something stupid. Neither of them knows how to handle monsters from another dimension quite yet. Not to mention Dara likely wants to be as far from the action as much as possible. 

They can’t stay here. Not if there are monsters coming. There’s hardly anywhere to go. The café is crowded, and as far as Geralt knows, there are only two exits. The one at the front of the store, and the one that’s likely in the back. Next time, Geralt is sitting closer to an exit, music be damned. He chances a look over his shoulder to see if he can see the employee exit. From here, he can’t see it. Shit. 

“Geralt," Ciri grits out. “Geralt, we can fight our way out of this.” She reaches for the knife that Geralt just _knows_ she has concealed on her. 

“No! Nope! Not doing that! Ciri, I thought we’ve- Shit.” Jaskier holds up a hand, cutting Ciri off. The sound of snarling gets louder. He stiffens as huge needle looking protrusions stick through the wood. “That’s new. Okay.” He breathes out sharply. “Okay. We’re going to get behind the counter where no one is going to fight anything! Follow me.” Jaskier grabs the tables legs and hoists it up. “Go, go!” 

Geralt holds his back to the table, keeping Ciri and Dara in front as they rush towards the back end of the café. 

There’s still the sound of barking, snarling, and screaming behind him. But it doesn’t sound like anyone is being actively attacked. Until another set of needles pierce the table. Geralt has yet to hear about a monster that can do such a thing. He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if one of those hits someone. 

“Okay, here. Go. Oh wait, there’s a storage room. Even better!” Jaskier drops the table only once they’ve gotten behind the counter, a loud thud echoing through the room. Geralt frowns. How heavy is that thing? He pushes the thought away, and the four of them begin to crawl towards the storage room. Jaskier encourages to follow suit, but not everyone can cross the room without alerting the monsters. 

“C’mon, hurry up. Yes, good. Oh, fuck.” A hound starts charging forward. Geralt reaches for his own knife. It won’t be enough to kill even half of these things, but it might give people enough time to escape. 

And then Jaskier rips the cash register off the counter and chucks it at the nearest beast, the monster exploding into lights and disappearing. Geralt looks up at Jaskier and frowns. The musician just sticks his tongue out. “Oh, you come up with a better idea, then!” 

He guides whoever is closest into the storage closet. “This isn’t exactly the safest place.” Geralt points out. Not especially since Ciri already has her pink knife out, ready to defend the 10 or so people in the closet. 

“No, but I know a guy.” Jaskier grins and starts to shut the door. “I’m going to get help. Stay here.” Then he opens the door a little wider for a moment to point at Ciri. “No heroics!” The door closes, and Geralt pushes everyone towards the back, waiting and listening for whatever or whoever was supposed to help them out of this situation. 

The snarling grows quieter and turns into loud sniffing. Someone in the corner of the room starts whimpering. Geralt fixes them with a hard stare. If these dogs can smell fear, they are all fucked. “Stay calm.” He hisses. 

Then there’s another crash outside of the room. 

“Again with the dogs?” A familiar voice. “Oh, and a giant porcupine, lovely- hey, watch it!” There’s a loud bang against the door. The voice is closer now. “Bad doggy! Bad.... porcupiney!” 

“Spider-Man!” Ciri whispers, a smile on her face. 

“How’d he get here so fast?” Dara wonders aloud. 

Geralt frowns. Is that who Jaskier ran to get? Does he _know_ Spider-Man? 

Well, Spider-Man better hurry the fuck up and kill these things. Geralt is _not_ going to die in a fucking storage closet. 

The door creaks as Spider-Man presumably leaps off it and into the fray. “Hey, wait! No, no, not back there!” His voice fades to a different corner of the store. “There will be no destroying of the- ow!” Another crash. “I hate you lot so much. Not backstage!” 

Another screech. Screaming. More swearing as Spider-Man clumsily fights his way through a pack of hellhounds and a giant porcupine. It feels like ages before Spider-Man calls out that it’s okay to come out. 

Geralt opens the door slowly. 

The café is a _mess._ Tables destroyed, light fixtures on the floor, webs clinging from wall to wall. A hunched over Spider-Man breathing heavily in the middle of the room. “Anyone a doctor here? To- to check out the wounded?” 

Geralt notices that there are a few people who didn’t quite make it to the storage closet or backstage. Porcupine spines stick out from a few of them. “I’m a paramedic,” He turns to Ciri. “Call an ambulance. Now. Tell them it’s rift activity. Someone who works here get me a first aid kit.” Then he goes to see what he can do with what limited supplies there are. 

“Oh, right! I mean. Right, good! Thank you for your services?” Spider-Man looks down at the ground, a hand at his neck. “Is that what you’re supposed to say? Well, look at the time! I better go! Do something else. Ta!” Geralt can only watch from the corner of his eye as Spider-Man swings away. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on the strange occurrence or the way that Spider-Man seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Instead, he has to help these people. 

Though monsters aren’t his expertise, he feels that it’s safe to say that no one is hurt badly. The spines from the porcupine seem to cause a sort of paralysis. People with two or three needles sticking out of them are laying on the ground, frozen. Others with just one have a bit of movement. 

That’s not to say there’s no poison involved. Aretuza is likely to be involved with this soon enough. 

In the back, where the remnants of Jaskier’s band remains, is a bassist hovering over the drummer. “You shouldn’t touch it. Or pull it out. I think. Oh, thank Melitele. The doctor is here.” The blonde bassist says. 

“Paramedic.” Geralt corrects. “Here, let me see.” 

But the drummer has already pulled out several needles. Strangely enough, her movements don’t seem to be impeded upon at all. “Don’t touch me,” She snarls. “I’m fine.” 

“You should still go to the hospital.” Geralt looks at the needles. The tips are covered in blood. “We don’t know enough about these monsters or what their toxins can do to safely say that you’re okay.” 

“I said,” Her eyes ablaze. “I’m _fine_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me @anxiousbard on tumblr for more spidey!jask shenanigans including a venom verse! (also like my new sense8 au and witcher!jask and other silly aus) (also also you can like and reblog and support me there too which is always cool) i love comments and kudos and stuff so ya know. 
> 
> also also also  
> i love u thank u for reading this weird fic <3


	4. The Nightman Cometh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh sorry this took so long. anxiety is big stupid!
> 
> anyone who has followed me on tumblr from spidey!jask's first drabble might notice a teeny tiny callback <3
> 
> love u @aggpo

“Oh Gods. This is a disaster.” Jaskier stares at the front page of the  Cintran Times. “ _ Spider-Man Destroys Local Café.  _ Uh, did they miss the part where I saved everyone inside?” He turns the paper so that Triss can see just how terrible this is. “I mean, at least they took a good picture. Look at that dynamic pose. Striking. Couldn’t they focus on that instead?” 

“You have an entire Instagram dedicated to your dynamic superhero poses,” Triss points out. She folds some of her fancy suits away into one of her fancy suitcases. “And the café was a mess.” 

Jaskier can’t believe what he’s hearing. “How is that  _ my  _ fault? It’s not exactly a clean thing, super- heroing . What, am I to stay behind to tidy up as well?” He looks at the front page again and frowns. Destroys. 

Triss laughs. “You’ve never stayed to tidy up anything in your life. First chance you get you run off.” 

“I’d argue that fighting monsters is a form of cleaning, thank you.” 

“Sure.” Another shirt goes into the suitcase. “You do understand that I won’t be around for at least a week.” 

Jaskier flips to the article in the newspaper. There’s another picture, but it’s just of the café. The state it was left in. Surely there’s at least one quote in here about his heroics. Three words or less, that’s all he’s asking for. “Why are you leaving again? You do realize you’re an important part of this  entire operation.”

“I already told you. I’m going to  Nilfgaard to discuss a strategy about the tears.” She stops for a moment and turns to face him. Pulls the newspaper right out of his hands. “The tears are getting closer to their borders. They’ll need  help. ” 

“Hey!” 

“Which, for the lesser cuts, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep doing anyway.” 

Jaskier sits up and crosses his legs. “Wait, what? Why?” 

“I have better things to do than to play nurse.” She continues packing. “Unless you’re truly injured or you have some new information about the monsters you’ve been fighting, I have to be able to focus on my work. Cataloguing and understanding these creatures and the relationship with our world doesn’t leave a lot of time to spare.” 

“But I did bring you something!” 

“Yes. The needle from the giant porcupine.” Triss frowns and looks around her. “You didn’t move it, did you?” 

He snorts. “I have no intention of ever touching one of those things again.” One grazed his arm. And though he wasn’t completely paralyzed like others who survived such, it still rattled him that he lost a bit of sensation in his arm. Made things interesting in terms of swinging a huge circle around the city before running back to the café. 

The worst part of that whole experience was that Geralt was gone. 

Well, it was. Until the paper came out today. They say all news is good  news, but he fails to see how that is given the current story they’re spinning about him. 

“Here it is.” Triss holds up a glass case with the needle inside. “Tell me again how these affected you?” 

Jaskier sits up straight. “There I was, facing off a dozen-”

“The short version.” 

“I am unappreciated in my time,” he sighs. “A giant porcupine shot those out of  its back. People who weren't squirreled away became paralyzed. The more quills that pierced their skin, the worse the paralysis.”

Triss puts the quill back down and trades it for a file. “I’m surprised that it affected you at all. I would have thought it wouldn’t affect people with so much chaos in them.” 

The whole theory of chaos is interesting, but Jaskier has yet to understand it beyond the simplest of explanations. “You said that mine felt different from other mages. From normal chaos.” 

“It is. Could be why it’s venom still affected you. Couldn’t be sure unless I brought you into the lab which...” Triss bites her lip. “Which wouldn’t exactly help keep your secret identity secret. More than one person at  Aretuza would like to get their hands on you, you know.” 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

“I’m serious. People have questions about the crisis. If there are any more people like you. Those who have been dramatically affected by the tears appearing.” She puts the file down. “It wouldn’t surprise me if someone eventually came to try and get a closer look.” 

Jaskier scoffs. “They’d have to catch me first.” 

“Mages don’t necessarily have to be fast, Jaskier.” 

“ Y’know , I’m starting to think that you doubt my abilities!” 

Triss shakes her head. “I don’t. All I’m asking is that you  _ try  _ to be careful. Maybe not so many selfies with your... fans.” 

“Now  _ that  _ is an outrageous request. I’m giving the people what they want! A chance to meet the amazing Spider-Man!” He stands and stretches. “Speaking of which, I should probably get going.” 

“Is your sixth sense going off?” She asks. To her credit, she sounds genuinely curious. 

“No, no. It would be much more convenient if it was that far in advance. No. I’m just going to patrol a bit.  Renfri is still being targeted by those dogs. And now porcupines.” He places his hands on his hips. “You wouldn’t have any theories on why, would you?”

“Some working ones. Nothing concrete.” Triss frowns. “We’ll work something out. But you can’t keep her safe if you yourself get hurt. So please do us both a favor and don’t do anything stupid for the next few days.”

Jaskier grins. “I have  never and will never do anything stupid in my life. Except for that one time with Valdo-” 

“Good _ bye _ Jaskier. 

He leaves her apartment and sighs. 

-

Yennefer is thankful that at least coffee is doing  its job right. Ever since she’s caught wind that  Renfri is a target of  _ something  _ she’s been following her. Looking for clues. 

Obviously, she’s thought to leave up tracing spells or tried to scan for a sort of chaos there. But nothing seems to stick with this girl. It’s as frustrating as it is fascinating. 

It could very well be the reason why someone is hunting her down. But for what purpose?  Aretuza deals with magic. Not the absence of it. 

Tissaia is even looking forward to starting a magical learning program. 

What could possibly go wrong with giving any of these nitwits more power? 

She must speak to  Tissaia about this nonsense. She isn’t as powerful as she likes to think she is, but she does have sway in  Aretuza . As soon as Yennefer can spare a moment, she will be having words. They can also talk about a few of her theories. One of the heads of Aretuza will want to know.

A quick check of her watch, and she thinks she might have a few minutes. 

On her way to  Tissaia’s office, she bumps into an old friend. 

“Oh, Yennefer, thank the Gods,” Triss Merigold stops to catch her breath, and pushes a file into Yennefer’s hands. “Could you drop this off for me? I can’t miss this train.” 

Yennefer looks at the file and sighs. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Please! I’ll tell you more about the new monster myself. I have plenty of eye-witness accounts.” 

“I’m sure you do.” 

“Not  _ this  _ again, Yenna.” Triss pushes a hand through her hair before looking at her watch. “Shit. I really  have to go. Look, we’ll talk later.” And then Triss is running down the hallway, small suitcase rolling behind her. 

Yennefer isn’t convinced this little trip to  Nilfgaard will do much to repair the relationship between their two countries. Nor does she think that all  Nilfgaard wants is to  _ learn  _ about the portals for preparation purposes. If anyone in this godforsaken city has a brain, they will start to plan for any coups that might take place in the coming months. 

Another thing that she needs to talk to  Tissaia about. 

But now she really only has time to drop off this stupid fucking file. 

Damn it all. 

Triss owes her big time. And she knows exactly what to cash in on. 

She knows, has known, that Triss is collaborating with Spider-Man for whatever reason. The information she gets and the speed at which she gets it... there’s no other way. Not only that, but she has felt bits of magic rolling off the idiotic man in tights. He’s had a mage’s help. Continues to get help when he gets himself into a spot of trouble. 

Triss has denied her involvement with the costumed hero, but Yennefer can read between the lines. She trusts Triss, but she doesn’t give a flying fuck about whatever it is Spider-Man is after. Cintra would be better off without  nuisances such as himself getting in the way of her work. 

But Triss did say they would talk later. That they would. Yennefer’s patience is running low. 

She glances at the file in her hand. There’s probably nothing in here of use. Yennefer has been gathering her own information on monsters. No need to rely on witnesses fueled by anxiety and morons playing at hero. 

Yennefer walks down the halls, ignoring anyone who tries to speak with her. Instead, she makes a beeline for the office at the end of the corridor. One of their many research departments. She doesn’t bother knocking on the door. 

Inside, one of the heads of  Aretuza is clacking away, far away from where all the real action is. The office is filled to the brim with trophies that he himself did not collect. He’s older, which is probably his excuse. Graying hair. Glasses. Ridiculously expensive suit covered by stupid white lab coat. Thinks himself important, like the rest of the Ban  Ard division. “Here. Triss meant to drop this off.” 

“Oh. Has she left already?” He takes the file and flips it open. “This is excellent. Thank you, Yennefer.” 

Yennefer feigns a smile before waving goodbye, closing the door on  Stregebor’s office. 

Perhaps one day he will contribute something of use. Until then, Yennefer has no reason to pay him any attention.

-

Yennefer did not pick The Sorceress moniker for herself. 

People saw a woman, powerful and chaotic, and bestowed it upon her. 

Unimaginative, but she’ll take it. 

She overlooks the vast sea of buildings Cintra has to offer. Waits for a tear to activate. For screams to ring out.  In a moment’s notice, she can be where the danger lies and put an end to it. All while keeping onlookers at bay. 

Though tonight, she’s hoping to finish this  Renfri business. It’s been going on too long already. With no clues thus far, it’s another annoyance on her plate. 

Approaching her in person may be the better option. 

How to do that?

Observing in person could give her away, though unlikely.  Renfri also seems eager to get some blood on her hands. (Potential revenge plot?) Getting close while in disguise might be the quickest way to get stabbed. A tracking spell would be useful, though she hasn’t quite mastered that yet. 

Aretuza is still recovering  spellbooks from nearly a thousand years ago. Translating them takes work. Performing spells takes skill. Inventing her own takes focus. 

Between work, keeping this damned city running, and co-parenting, she hasn’t quite found the right balance yet. Hopefully when this one bit is taken care of, she can go back to regularly scheduled patrols. 

For now, she will have to settle on staying in the general vicinity of  Renfri’s apartment. 

Any time now, she expects she’ll see a flash of green. Monsters pouring into the area. Not just the hellhounds, unfortunately. Someone has gotten a bit stronger. Is experimenting. She crosses her arms and shakes her head. 

Her annoyance shoots through the roof when she sees a figure in the distance. 

Swinging on his magically held together webs is Spider-Man. Yennefer purses her lips. Somehow the fool doesn’t realize that if he stayed out of the way, she could solve this on her own. Instead she  has to babysit two idiots. 

Though... If she leaves Spider-Man to the dogs, she may be able to track down who is doing this in the first place. It would be nice for him to be useful for once. She smiles to herself and lifts her chin. Yes.  Tonight will be different. 

And when she sees  Renfri turn a corner, tense and watchful, she knows that the  festivities are about to begin. 

Sure enough, green lights flash between two different buildings. Hellhounds and... yes, the giant porcupine. If whoever is pulling these monsters out are specifically choosing them, she’s lost whatever dwindling bit of respect she’s had for them. 

She closes her eyes and breathes in the air. Chaos. It hums around her, as it has every night previously. But each time she focused she’s come a step closer to pinpointing the energy. 

It’s not the strongest she’s felt. But practiced. She opens her eyes and looks in the distance. They aren’t far off. This amount of power. Controlling  monsters the way that they do. 

Not too far away, she can hear the snarling of the hellhounds. The sound of quills piercing brick and concrete. And quips. Lots of stupid, unnecessary quips. 

Time to get to work. 

She portals. Nothing flashy. Basic half steps from one building to another. Any more power than that, and she’s likely to alert the  perpetrator . 

Nothing in the area. From here, she should be able to see someone. They would want to keep an eye on what’s going on, wouldn’t they? If they have control of the monsters, there would be nothing to fear. 

She reaches out again. 

The chaos is overflowing here. It shouldn’t be this difficult. She turns in place, letting her chaos extend. Feeling for something, anything familiar. 

Smiles when she feels the faint flicker of panic. 

Yennefer is close. Can follow the path of messy, desperate chaos. This can be over tonight, she thinks. It can finally be over. No one’s reputation  has to get tarnished. No more endangered women. And frankly, no more bullshit. 

The chaos, the thread of it, is so close she can nearly grasp it. 

To her left she can hear a soft  wooshing sound. It’s barely enough warning to conjure up something to protect her from the oncoming kick to her side. She’s protected herself from a broken hip, but the momentum has knocked her off the building. Yennefer throws her hands down, just able to throw a blast down to prevent any permanent damage. 

She glares upwards. 

And surprise, surprise. Who does she see but Spider-Man. The annoyance is balancing with ease atop a streetlamp. 

“What the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?” Yennefer growls. Embers begin to form at her fingertips. 

“Protecting innocents!” Spider-Man answers. He certainly sounds confident for such a nonsensical thing to say. “I saw you. I  _ saw  _ you!” 

Yennefer doesn’t have time for this. She forms a portal and steps through. What the hell was she thinking before, using him to her advantage? Thus far he’s only proved himself to be a liability. Time to put this to an end. 

The world around her shifts with ease, the air crackling each step of the way. She makes sure to appear behind Spider-Man, just where she stood moments before his inane attack. 

He’s flipping off the streetlamp before she has a chance to incapacitate him. How the fuck does he know she’s going to attack? 

Spider-Man wings around buildings in large arcs, never stopping once. Only gaining speed. 

She grits her teeth. If she wasn’t so concerned with the image of mages at the current moment, she would have burned everything in her path to get to the spider. “If you know what’s good for you,” she says. “You’ll be staying out of my way.” 

Spider-Man swings and flies over head, shooting webs down at her. They wrap around her arms and torso. Whoever made this was skilled. A mage, she knows. But no mage is more powerful than she. Fire sparks and she burns the webs away. 

To her delight, she hears Spider-Man swear. He  has to loop back around the city.  Portaling around now would be insufficient. She isn’t as quick as he is, the bastard. 

He swoops in again, aiming another kick. 

She steps out of the way easily. All that fancy swinging leaves him open. Amateur. 

Yennefer keeps her hands at the ready. He is going to try again. She can already see him preparing in the exact same way as he did the last time.

“Fuck staying out of the way. I saw you go after that girl!” He comes at Yennefer. This time, she’s ready. Just as Spider-Man crosses over the rooftops, she burns the strand of web. Spider-Man falls to the ground, just able to tuck and roll. But before he’s able to leap at her, to gain some of his lost ground, Yennefer holds him in place. 

Telekenisis is not easy. And after a few portals and some blasts of fire, Yennefer is exhausted. She raises her hand above her head, Spider-Man lifting off his feet. Hovering. Gripping at the invisible hands around his neck. “You think yourself a hero,” she takes a few steps forward. “But you’re nothing but a glory hungry child. A nuisance.” 

“Yeah, but I look good doing it, right?” Spider-Man's voice is strained. He kicks at the air. “Besides. I’m not a  _ crazy witch!  _ Out to murder people for no reason!” 

Yennefer lifts her other hand, flames coming to life. She doesn’t plan to kill Spider-Man. But if she has to hurt him enough to keep him from fucking her up like he did tonight, then so be it. “I’m finished with your-  _ Fuck _ !” Spider-Man shot her in the face with his fucking webs. 

She releases her hold on him, dropping him towards the street. Though she can hear him  fall down , hitting air conditioners and fire escapes, she can’t focus on it.  Has to get this sticky shit off her  _ face.  _ Yennefer opens her last portal for the night. There’s nothing more that she can do for now.

_ Fucking  _ Spider-Man. 

-

“Okay,  _ ow _ .” 

Geralt is off-clock. This week has been absolute hell. It’s late. He knows deep in his bones that if he were to look at what just came crashing down in the alley he’s currently passing, that he will be unable to walk away. All he wants to do is go home. He doesn’t have to be a paramedic all the time.

It’s not his business.

“Ow, ow,  _ ow. _ Fuck. Fuck me. I hope nothing’s broken. I mean, it’s probably not  broken? Shit. You know what? It’s okay. I’m  oka \-  _ ow.  _ Aw,  _ tits _ -” 

He looks. 

Fuck. 

It’s Spider-Man.

It couldn’t have been some anonymous asshole. No, it had to be the hero that protected everyone in the café the other day. Ciri included. Geralt closes his eyes and shakes his head.  Let's out a long sigh. 

“You’re going to make it worse.” Geralt finds himself saying. 

Spider-man looks up. Up close, he can see how the eyes (huge, made to look intimidating) open wide. Magic? Technology? It doesn’t matter. “Yes, well! I’ll have you know that this is nothing! An off night. And. And you should see that other person! You can consider her ass  _ thoroughly  _ kicked!” He moves to wave his arm but ends up wincing. “Ow.”

“Mhm.” There’s a part of his jewel toned suit that looks darker. Right on the shoulder. He’s bleeding. Hard to tell how much. Does the suit really have to be that tight? “I have. Supplies. In my apartment.” Again, the wide bug-eyes of the mask get bigger. “It’s just down the block.” 

“I mean, if you’re offering… But I shouldn’t impose- Still, if you had anything to numb the pain… Not that there’s a lot! However, there are risks involved-”

Geralt is already turning to walk away. “Are you coming?”

“Yes! Yes. Thank you. You will not regret this.” 

Geralt already regrets this.

-

Geralt is more than thankful that Ciri is staying over at a friend’s house tonight. The last thing he wants to do is get her involved in superhero bullshit. Especially considering that she is far too willing to do just that. 

And the fact that it’s Spider-Man. The hero already turns up often enough at the school. Any further connections and whatever enemies Spider-Man may have could endanger her. Geralt was warned. No turning back now. 

“Sit.” He gestures to the chair in the kitchen. 

Spider-Man looks at Geralt, then to the chair. Then he sits down. Gripping his side every step of the way. He even winces as he sits, Geralt notes. For a mask that  conceals Spider-Man's identity, it does little to hide how he’s feeling. 

Geralt studies him for a moment. Frowns. Then he goes to retrieve his first aid kit.

When he returns, Spider-Man is looking around his flat with interest. It feels more and more like a mistake that he’s here. 

Too late for that. He washes his hands. Puts gloves on. Then waves his hand at Spider-Man. “Can you take that thing off?” 

“Take me to dinner first, you saucy thing.” 

Geralt narrows his eyes. “If you want me to treat you, you’ll take off that stupid suit.”

“Oh. Right.” Spider-Man begins to peel the suit from his skin, starting at his neck and down his torso. And really, it shouldn’t be a surprise that Spider-Man is... fit. Strong. It does make sense, what with the way he swings around Cintra. All those flips and tricks, the way he shows off, soften his image. Geralt would do well to remember that this is the same man who fights interdimensional demons on a regular basis.

It’s part of the reason why Geralt is doing this. 

Spider-Man stops wriggling out of his suit, the fabric bunched up around his waist. “Alright then, doctor!” His hands are shaking, pressed up against ribs on the left side.

“I’m not a doctor.” Geralt leans in close, focusing in on the part where Spider-Man clutches. “Move your hand.” He says quietly. 

With a sigh, he does. “Well, then, what should I call you? My savior? My angel? My serendipitous companion? My not-doctor?  Noctor ?”

“Geralt.” Without taking him to a hospital, it’s impossible to gauge how bad Spider-Man’s ribs are. If Geralt had to wager, he’d say that a few of them were cracked, if not broken. Nothing he could do for that besides a few pain meds. He could advise the vigilante to take things easy, but he doubts that his words will go heeded. 

Geralt shifts his focus to Spider-Man’s shoulder. It’s still bleeding, albeit not profusely. 

“This is going to need stitches.” He reaches for his bag and takes out the necessary supplies. 

“Oh,  _ wonderful.  _ Just what I was hoping for. What better way to mend than to be incessantly stabbed by a  needle. My favorite! Fucking  _ ow _ , warn a man next time, will you!” 

Geralt had only just cleaned the wound. “A needle should be nothing in comparison to what you usually face.” Not to mention he needs less than ten stitches. He’s tended to children who complain less than this man. 

“ T’was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Geralt.” 

“Hm.” 

“Despite your lack of understanding and empathy…” Spider-Man turns to look at him. “Thank you. Truly.”

Geralt wonders if it would be easier to read him if he would take the mask off. He finds all he can do is nod. Spider-Man has done more for him than he can ever really pay back. Keeping Ciri safe at her school, and then again at the café… Geralt could never find the words to express his gratitude. Ever. This will have to suffice.

As he finished suturing, he notices a small tattoo on Spider-Man’s inner arm. A sort of… guitar with flowers growing out of it. It’s delicate looking. Something about it looks familiar. 

The vigilante sucks in a breath and covers the art with his hand. “Yeah. Yup.  Y’know what it’s like. Being young. Getting. Tattooed and whatnot. Would love more! Doesn’t really align with my current career.” He clears his throat, then starts to redress, wincing all the while. “Oh, that stings. Ugh.” 

Geralt hums. “You shouldn’t strain yourself,” He removes his gloves and crosses over to the kitchen sink, washing his hands. “Could make your injuries worse. Tear open your stitches. Make your broken ribs worse.” 

“Oh sure,” Spider-Man says. “I’ll just tell that to all the monsters and demons. ‘Oh, hello! Sorry, but I need a day off.’ That is sure to go over well.” 

“Or you can let someone else handle it.” 

“No,” Spider-Man says. “I can’t.” 

Again, Geralt finds himself frowning. He leans against the kitchen counter and studies Spider-Man. It’s true that Cintra has been slow to come up with an effective way to dispatch of the monsters. The police have been little help, and the new special forces have been learning the hard way and without powers. 

Unbidden, he thinks of Jaskier. How an ordinary civilian took charge. He remembers the man leading him and two children towards safety, then running out to go get help. Spider-Man's help. 

Spider-Man could take time off to heal. There are others willing to pick up the slack. 

It’s not his business. 

“If you keep going like this there may not  _ be  _ a Spider-Man to protect Cintra.” 

“Are you worried about me?” He can hear the smile. “Not to worry. I heal faster than most. It really comes in handy in situations like this. Though... it might help if I had some aspirin? Oooor codeine?” 

Geralt turns and reaches into the cabinet above the kitchen sink. Takes out store-brand aspirin and tosses it to Spider-Man. He catches it with ease. 

“Aw, really? Shouldn’t I get, I dunno, perks for knowing a doctor?” Then Geralt fills a glass and hands it to Spider-Man.

“I’m not a-”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not a doctor,” He waves it off, then reaches for the bottom of his mask. “Give a man some modesty, will you?” 

With a roll of his eyes, Geralt turns around. Listens to the sound of Spider-Man fumbling with a child proof cap for a minute. 

“Well,” Spider-Man says. Geralt turns back around. His patient is already standing and hobbling towards the window. “I should be going. I already took up too much of your time.” 

Geralt follows him into the living room. It feels wrong to let him go now, especially considering the fool is going to swing away, likely aggravating his ribs. 

It’s not his business. 

He watches as Spider-Man opens the window. “Oh, and thanks again! You’ve been a great help. I won’t forget this!” A moment later and he’s leaping out into the city, swinging on those dangerously thin looking webs. 

Hm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

> for more spidey!jask (and to reblog it and like it as well as other ways to support me) follow me on tumblr: anxiousbard. i will scream about this concept with you as much as you want. i promisk


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